


Flightplan

by deleerium



Category: Black Hawk Down (2001) RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-12
Updated: 2006-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deleerium/pseuds/deleerium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando (along with other LOTR cameos) is a flight attendant for an international airline. Eric is the Captain on a flight to London. Mysterious tension ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flightplan

"Yeah, Boyd, like I'm going to turn down a 72 hour layover in London." Orlando laughed and ripped the paper off the line printer, glancing at the gate number assigned to his next flight. "I need the vacation, man. And these overnights are a breeze - everyone sleeps." He tucked the paper into the pocket of his uniform jacket and mock-saluted the other flight attendant. "I'll catch you on the Paris rounds next month, if you get the bid. Good luck." He waved and made his way quickly out of the crew lounge and down the hallway, pulling his luggage behind him. 

As a senior flight attendant with British Airways, he had his pick of assignments. Based out of Charlotte, NC, and fluent in both French and Italian, his regular routes took him up and down the East coast and over to Europe. This month he'd needed the extra hours and lucked out on trading a boring four day coastal hop for a three day trip to London. 

Cold and sound blasted Orlando as he pushed open the metal doors and jogged across the tarmac to the waiting aircraft. He took the jet-way stairs two at a time, cursing when the first security combination he tried wouldn't work. The second one did and he sighed in relief as the door slammed shut behind him. He stepped through the aircraft door and smiled, pleased. The catering crew was still loading meals and supplies. He was more than on time - he was early.

He stowed his bag and straightened his jacket, checking that his shirt was tucked and his tie was clean. Slipping into the cockpit, he perched on the jumpseat, carefully unwrapping what was left of a turkey sandwich. He took a bite and pulled the crew manifest out of his pocket, going down the list of names. The cockpit door clicked open just as Orlando got to the names of the flight crew. "Fuck." 

"There a reason you're in here?" 

Orlando blanched and dropped the manifest. That voice. He snatched it from the floor and stood up. "Manifest. I was reading the manifest." He balled up his sandwich wrapper in one hand, unaware of the single white crumb perched in the center of his tie. 

Eric reached out and flicked the crumb off of Orlando's tie, his expression blank. "You through?" 

Fuckity fuck fuck. Of all the bloody people. Heat flooding his face, Orlando ran a hand through his hair and straightened his tie. "Yes. Of course. Here, I'll just slip..." Too late, Orlando realized there wasn't enough room. He swallowed, one hand clutching the manifest as he slid between immovable man and immovable door - hips and arse dragging across the front of Eric's trousers. Oh. God. 

Orlando scrambled for the first class galley without looking back. 

The cockpit door shut with a snap. 

+

_eight months earlier..._

Orlando woke up grinning. He glanced at the clock. "Shite, I'm gonna be late for breakfast." Scrambling out of bed, he headed for the shower. 

Not that breakfast was a date. Not really. 

Orlando made it a hard and fast rule not to date other flight attendants - at least not those who worked for the same airline. But he'd neglected to make the same rule about pilots, for a very good reason - most of the pilots he knew were straight. Promiscuous, but straight. 

But this was his first trip with First Officer Eric Bana. A senior transfer from their partner airline, Eric had gone around and introduced himself to the crew. He'd been more than polite to the flight attendants and seemed like a really likable guy. Being drop dead gorgeous didn't hurt either. 

So when Orlando ran into their handsome first officer at the hotel bar their first night in Philly and been invited to have a beer, he resigned himself to the usual look-but-don't-touch. 

Three beers later, they wandered down the street for dinner. Half-way down the block, it dawned on Orlando that they were alone. Together. Conveniently avoiding the rest of the crew, who were probably getting dinner at the hotel restaurant. Things started looking up. 

But he still wasn't sure, so he waited for Eric to make the first move, just in case. Nothing worse than getting punched on a first date. So he waited. For a pass. A suggestion. A deep, meaningful look. Something. Some sign that he knew exactly why Orlando had thrown away the blonde flight attendant's number as soon as she'd deplaned in Atlanta. 

As the evening wore on, they talked easily about nothing in particular and everything under the sun. Gradually, even though he was having a good time, Orlando's initial excitement faded. Eric hadn't made a single pass - not even a casual touch. He's straight. Friendly, but straight. Fuck. Orlando resigned himself to pleasant company and some alone time later, imagining what Eric looked like without his clothes. 

They were both quiet on the way back to the hotel, hunkered down into their jackets - laughing when they realized they'd made a wrong turn and had to double back. They walked shoulder to shoulder down the hall, their rooms on opposite ends of the same floor. 

Orlando's was first. He fumbled with his keycard, taking as long as possible to open the door. Fuck it. He turned in the threshold, throwing out one last, desperate line. "Thanks. For the beer. And company. I enjoyed it." 

"Me too." Eric rubbed the back of his neck, the other hand shoved in a pocket. "So." He cleared his throat. 

Orlando leaned forward. 

"Want to meet for breakfast?" Eric's voice was rough. 

Orlando leaned back and grinned, resisting the urge to cheer. "Yeah, that'd be lovely." 

Eric returned the grin with one of his own, the tips of his ears going pink. "Great. Good. I'll... see you around six, then." 

"Okay, g'night." Orlando waited until Eric started down the hall before he stepped inside and closed the door gently - palm against the wood.

+

Breakfast was good. As good as it could be sitting across the table from one another with the rest of the crew. But there was shared laughter and at least one lingering look. They sat next to each other in the shuttle on the way back to the airport, shoulders knocking together. Then they joked as Eric leaned in the galley doorway, watching Orlando check supplies and make the coffee - asking him how long he'd been with the airline, what made him want to fly. It was good. More than good. It was on the way to being great. 

And it was that potential for greatness that made the disaster that followed so much worse. 

A new flight attendant, Dominic Monaghan, joined them on the leg back to Charlotte. Orlando knew him from a previous job. He also knew first hand about the rumors that followed Dom wherever he went. 

Dom Monaghan had more hands than an octopus. He also had a running competition with another flight attendant, Elijah Wood, for the world championship mile high record. 

In the middle of their night flight, Orlando wasn’t surprised to find himself pinned against the cart in the forward galley by a very determined Dom. 

"C'mon, just a quickie - no one will see." 

"I said no, Monaghan." Orlando tugged at Dom's wandering hands - pulling them away from his ass and out from under his shirt. 

"You used to be more fun." 

"That's before you started working for the same airline." Orlando kept his voice to a hissed whisper, twisting away, but Dom backed him against the outside door. "And I don't think snogging in the back of a taxi with a drunk bloke counts as fun. Especially when the drunk won't take no for an answer." 

"Hey, that's right, you owe me for a night spent passed out on that curb." Dom pressed his advantage, leaning close and wrapping an arm around Orlando's waist. 

Orlando grabbed Dom's wrists, hissing into his ear. "I don't owe you anything." 

Just as Eric stepped out of the cockpit. 

Orlando froze. 

Dominic took that as a good sign and started working on Orlando's fly. 

"What the hell is going on?" Eric's voice could have cut glass. 

Orlando blanched and Dom spun around. It was Dom who spoke first, patting Orlando on the hip as he backed off and slipped past Eric. "Just improving company relations, sir." He winked at Orlando. "I'll call you before we land." 

Lips pressed into a thin line, still fumbling to right his clothes, Orlando didn't respond as Dominic disappeared around the corner. He glanced at Eric. "Thank y..." But found himself pinned against the door again, this time by someone infinitely bigger and stronger. And there was nothing good about the way Eric was looking at him. 

"What if I'd been a passenger?" Eric leaned closer, breath skating hot over Orlando's cheek. "You should be fired." He spat out the words. 

"Eric." Orlando grabbed his arm, breathless with his proximity and the need to explain. "It wasn't..." 

"Don't. Touch me." Eric flinched and jerked his arm away, backing up. "I saw enough." 

Fuck. Orlando stepped forward, hands at his hips, chin up, his face flushed. "You don't have a fucking clue what you s..." 

"Enough." Eric made a slicing motion with his hand. There was no emotion in his voice, his eyes gone flat black. "I'm not going to write you up. Everyone deserves one break." He held up a finger. "One." And pointed it at Orlando. "And that was yours." 

+

_present..._

"Please tell me you're kidding." Liv poured coffee with one hand and stacked pretzel packets with the other. "Cate and I have half a pro football team in business class and you want to trade mid-flight?" She nudged Orlando’s hip, dragging out another plastic tray full of light beers. "Besides, they're all drunk, they'd eat you alive." A flight attendant call button dinged. And then another.

"Liv." Orlando frowned. "You know I'm perfectly capable of handling a bunch of rowdy guys." 

"I know." She flashed Orlando a smile. "You're the best, but Cate and I have this totally under control. Enjoy the peace and quiet up there. We'll holler if we need help." She disappeared around the corner. 

Orlando sighed and made his way to the front of the plane, snagging a menu from the shelf before knocking on the cockpit door. 

+

"I only have a lasagna and a grilled salmon left." Orlando fixed his gaze firmly on the paper in his hand. 

"Nothing for me." 

Orlando frowned at Eric's profile. "Nothing? I can bri..." 

"No." Each word fell crisp from Eric's mouth. "Thank you." His gaze fixed on the pitch black window in front of him, Orlando's reflection outlined against the backdrop of a night sky. 

Orlando spun on his heels, shutting the door firmly behind him. 

+

When Orlando brought food to the flight engineer and first officer, he brought an extra coffee - conveniently switched for Eric's empty cup. And when he came to fetch the empty trays, two extra bags of pretzels ended up on Eric's side of the console. 

Neither he nor Eric said a word. 

Long past midnight, he walked slowly through the first class cabin, picking up the occasional empty glass. He rounded the corner to the galley and came up short. 

Eric was standing in the galley, glaring at the coffee maker and clutching his empty cup. 

"Here." Orlando reached around him and unlocked the coffee pot, holding out his hand for the cup. 

"I can do it."

Orlando tugged it gently from Eric's hand, his voice quiet. "It's my job to take care of the crew, Eric." He filled the cup and handed it back, locking the pot in place with a click. "That includes our captain." 

Eric stared at him over the steaming coffee. 

Orlando stood with one hand on his hip. "Are you hungry yet?" 

The tips of Eric's ears turned pink. "I'll take some pretzels. If you have them."

Snorting under his breath, Orlando pointed at the fold-down seat at the end of the galley. "Sit." 

Eric sat.

Moving quickly and quietly, Orlando opened cupboards with familiar efficiency, selecting and discarding mysterious packages, packets and bottles. He was conscious of every motion, feeling Eric's steady gaze like a touch. "Here." He handed Eric a glass plate with a huge, hot-melt turkey wrap, sliced in half and still steaming. With two bags of chips. 

Eric's eyes widened. "Where..." 

"Don't ask." 

Eric took the plate, his voice rough. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

+

Eric rode in the back of the hotel shuttle, watching Orlando's profile as he laughed at something Liv said. 

"Flown with any of the crew before?" 

Eric turned to look at his first officer, Sean Astin. "A few. Liv and Cate a few times. Bloom once. A while back." 

Sean nodded. "Liv and Cate are great, but Orlando's the best. Knows how to take care of the crew." 

The image of Orlando and Dom locked in an embrace in the galley flashed through Eric's mind and his stomach turned over with a lurch. "I can only imagine."

Sean frowned and lowered his voice. "Orlando? No way. Not like say, Wood or Monaghan. You flown with either of them?" Eric nodded and Sean chuckled wryly. "So you know you have to watch both the liquor and the cash, not to mention their penchant for mile-highs." Shaking his head, Sean stood up as the shuttle came to a stop, fitting his hat to his head. "But not Orlando. He'd boot a movie star back so your grandmother could sit in first. And sometimes, if you're lucky, he sneaks food on board." He grinned and rubbed his belly. "He makes this hot turkey wrapped creation that I'd sell my sister for." 

+

The elevator door shut behind the rest of the crew, leaving Orlando and Eric alone, headed for their rooms on the next floor. 

Even the carpet seemed loud. 

The elevator door opened and they both stood there, waiting for the other to go first. Eric finally leaned in and shoved his arm through the opening just as Orlando stepped forward. 

"Sorry..."

"Sorry..." 

They untangled their roll-a-boards and headed down the hall in silence, Eric trailing just behind Orlando. They stopped at their respective rooms -- right next door to one another. 

Adjoining rooms. Fucking perfect. This time, Orlando's fumbling with the keycard was a combination of fatigue and nerves. He dropped it on the second try. "Shit." 

"Here." Eric picked it up and reaching around, unlocked Orlando's door, holding it open with one large hand. Surrounding him. 

He let go just as Orlando surged forward into the room. 

Orlando wrestled his bag through the door and let go, turning to face Eric. He flinched when his luggage crashed to the floor behind him. 

Eric's lips twitched. 

Orlando made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort. "Do they ever stand the hell up?" 

Eric set his bag upright and let go of the handle. It didn't even wobble. 

"Braggart." 

Eric laughed. 

Orlando looked up at the sound and smiled, slow and shy. He leaned against the door. An elevator dinged, the sound muffled and far away. 

Eric moved first. He took a hesitant step back and tipped his bag to its wheels once again. "Well, good night." 

Orlando's smile faded. He nodded at Eric. "G'night." And shut the door. 

+

Orlando shuffled forward in the line, rubbing his hands lightly over his arms, grateful for the oversized wool sweater. "God bless the Americans." He yawned and tilted his head back to read the Starbucks menu. It was only a few blocks from the hotel, right across from Green Park - both its existence and location obtained courtesy of a rather attractive front desk clerk. After a few hours of sleep, Orlando forced himself out of bed, determined to enjoy the time back in London. 

"Don't you mean God bless corporate, capitalist America?" 

Orlando choked and turned around. Eric. Casual, street-clothes-clad, edible Eric, standing just a few patrons back. Orlando opened his mouth and nothing came out. He moved back in line, next to Eric. Being polite to a fellow crew member. Right. 

"So." Eric cleared his throat. "What do you usually get?" 

"Café Americano." Orlando forced himself to look away. Helplessly, he was drawn back. He found himself staring at Eric over a shoulder. "This your first time in London?" 

"No." Eric shook his head. 

Shite. So much for impromptu tour guide. Orlando rubbed a hand through his nap-rumpled hair. "Well, if you've been..."

"Take your order, Sir?" 

Orlando dropped his hand and turned to the clerk behind the register. After giving his order, he moved down the line to wait. And then heard Eric give his. 

"Yeah." Eric cleared his throat and leaned closer to the clerk. "I need a venti, no-whip, non-fat, four sugar latte. Please." 

Orlando's lips twitched. He waited until Eric was standing next to him again, both of them watching the girl behind the counter make their drinks. Orlando couldn't help it. "Did I just hear you give a five part Starbucks order? In coffee shop code?" 

The tips of Eric's ears were hot pink. "Yeah."

+

Orlando threw his cup away and took a step back. "Well then." Rubbing his arms again. 

Eric was mangling his empty cup, spinning it over and over in one hand. "You going to catch some of the sights?" He nodded up the hill towards the tube station. 

"Yeah, maybe a few." Orlando cocked his head. "I grew up here. In Kent, actually. But spent a lot of time in London." 

"Oh." Eric rubbed the back of his neck. 

"Do you want to see..."

"I thought you could show me..."

They both laughed. 

Orlando shoved his hands in his pockets and gestured to the far side of the park with a shoulder. "Buckingham Palace?" 

Eric grinned. "And then the Tower?" 

"Yeah, but only if we can take one of those obnoxious..." 

"Red buses?" 

"Yeah." Orlando tucked his chin down into the neck of his sweater. "I'd like that." 

+

This time. 

This time there was touching. 

The first time it happened, they were standing in the back of a crowded bus and took a corner too hard. Orlando reached for a hand rail and missed. He stumbled, surprised when he didn't fall, only to find himself pulled against a broad chest, Eric's arm wrapped tightly around his waist. 

Time slowed. Long enough for Orlando to feel the heat of Eric's hand where it mapped the curve of his ribs, individual fingers finding the smooth hollow of each. Long enough for Eric to learn the warm, shampoo smell of Orlando's hair as it blew mink soft and shy across his cheek. 

Eric squeezed Orlando's waist before releasing him, leaving an arm braced on the rail behind them both. 

"Thank you." Orlando wondered if Eric had felt his heart thundering in his chest. 

Eric's voice was a touch deeper than normal when he answered. "You're welcome."

+

The second time it happened, they were navigating the heavy crowds on the Strand and Orlando stopped – his gaze caught by something in a window. 

Eric's hand found the curve of his lower back. 

Orlando forgot why he was looking or what he was looking at, his breath fogging up the glass. He looked until there was no possible reason to keep looking. And then he stepped back. 

Eric held out his hand.

Orlando took it. 

+

Tipping his head back, Orlando watched the blur of brightly lit windows far above as they rode through the London night. He rubbed his arms and shifted in his seat, trying not to think about the warm thigh pressed snug against his. 

Eric slipped his arm along the back of the bench, hand politely flat on the top of the seat - forearm and bicep snug against Orlando's shoulders. "Have I worn you out?"

The back of Orlando's neck tingled, Eric's voice dancing along his nerves. "No.” He turned, tipping his head back against Eric's arm. Not surprised that the curve of his neck rode the bend in Eric's elbow as if carved for just that purpose. "Today. Today was...” 

"Yeah." Eric's hand cupped Orlando's shoulder, thumb rubbing lightly through wool. "Me too." 

+

The kiss was warm, even hidden in cold shadows, down a narrow street. "I was coming to ask for your phone number. That night." 

"You were?" Orlando rubbed his forehead against Eric's cheek, his hands buried under jacket layers. 

"Yeah." Eric brushed Orlando's hair back from his face -- ten fingers sliding through the mass, fingertips tracing the back of his skull. "I was so angry." 

"It hurt." Orlando tilted his head, eyes closing as Eric's lips found one dark brow, his temple, his cheek. "You looking at me like that."

Eric's thumbs traced the sharp edges of Orlando's jaw. The pin-tuck curve of his lower lip. "I'm sorry."

+

Orlando's door opened easily. He turned at a touch. 

Eric's hand rested on the flat denim angle of Orlando's hip. "I don't do one night stands." 

"Oh." Orlando smiled, slow and shy. He leaned against the door. An elevator dinged, the sound muffled and far away.

Eric glanced up and down the hall, then leaned closer. Another warm kiss - this one sharp with want and waiting. "Breakfast?" 

"Yeah." Orlando held on to the lapel of Eric's leather jacket until he slowly backed out of reach. "G'night." 

"I'll see you in the morning." 

+

Orlando heard the sound of a deadbolt sliding back. 

He dropped his toothbrush in the sink and ran. He fumbled with the deadbolt on his side of the connecting door, blushing when he heard the chuckle on the other. He finally yanked it open. 

Eric was down to his jeans. "It's morning somewhere." 

Orlando took a step forward and was lifted off his feet - back arched with the force of Eric's kiss. Not warmth. 

Fire. 

+

Orlando woke to the smell of sex and bacon. The metallic clatter of a dining cart. A closing door. Then the heat of Eric, crouched over him. Again. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Smiled. “’Morning.” 

And Eric grinned. 

END


End file.
